


All's Fair in Love and Nerf War

by Crazythatcounts



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: M/M, Nerf, blasters, pillow fort wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazythatcounts/pseuds/Crazythatcounts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Arm yourself".</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair in Love and Nerf War

Well, Ples thought, as he crawled on his hands and knees, with a foam knife in his teeth, he didn’t expect to wake up to _this_. What _this_ was came about something like the following:

That Saturday morning, Ples had woken to very bright sunlight streaming in from his windows, because someone had removed the curtains during the night. That should have been red flag number one, that one that told him to just climb back into bed because whatever was coming was probably not worth venturing forth to do. Ples ignored that, sitting up and stretching, now fully awake and with no way that he was going to get back to sleep. 

The second was the fact that he woke up very cold. His blanket, the one that always remained at the foot of his bed for when he woke up freezing in the night and didn’t want to remove himself from the covers to get a blanket, was missing. Ples never removed that blanket. It perplexed him, but he ignored that too, and climbed out of bed. Wearing only his pajamas, he wandered over to the door to his room and opened it, expecting to go to the kitchen for a cup of tea. 

Instead, Ples found himself staring at a large expanse of fabric that was somehow connected to the wall near the ceiling and draped down to nearly waist height. Before he could wonder what the _hell_ was going on in his hallway, a hand emerged from the cavern beneath the sheets and grabbed Ples’s ankle, and with a yelp of surprise, dragged him inside. 

Ples heard the door shut and forced himself up from the blankets all over the floor, feeling his pajama shirt up by his shoulders from the dragging, but luckily something had made sure his head hadn’t hit the floor too hard, so he was technically fine. Leaning over him, owner of the offending hand, was Veser. The boy was grinning like a maniac, and held in his hand something that looked remotely like a gun, but made of brightly colored plastic. 

“Arm yourself.” Veser shoved said weaponry into Ples’s chest, forcing the man to grab hold. The thing was, thankfully, very plastic and Ples assumed also quite harmless. It fired sticky darts, for goodness sakes. What caused the terrified, wide eye’d look on Ples’s face was the way Veser had greeted him that morning – he sounded like they were in a war. 

“Veser , what in the _world_ is going on?”

“We’re at war, Ples!” Veser threw his arms up and disturbed the canopy, a second, bigger blaster in his own hand. “Hanna and that zombie guy came over early and we decided it would kick ass to have a pillow-fort-war. I was coming to wake you – you’re on my side and if they start and we’re undermanned we’re dead!”

Ples, sighing, sat up and inspected the weapon he was apparently supposed to defend himself with. It was bright yellow, with a rotating barrel, a bright orange plastic trigger, and a black piece on the back that, when Ples started to gently fiddle with the moving parts, moved backwards and locked in something with a surprisingly satisfying click. He then looked at Veser, and realized that if he tried to back out of the game, he’d have not one but _two_ disappointed men to deal with, neither of which he wanted to deal with. Plus the fact that he could smell the coffee on Veser’s breath, which only led him to assume that Hanna may have gotten hold of a cup, and that in itself was chaos if left un-entertained. 

“Alright, what are the rules of this game?” Ples asked putting the blaster down in his lap. Veser’s toothy grin grew even larger, and dare Ples think it, more shark like at the agreement to play. 

“Hit ten times, you’re out. Uh, the kitchen is a safe zone and you can’t take your weapon inside it, but you can’t just stay in there, either.” As Veser spoke, he began to crawl forward, and Ples reluctantly followed, taking a right turn down the hall and through more canopied tunnels. “We fight until they’re both out, and if someone knocks a bit of the fort over, then the game stops while it’s rebuilt. And, no actual blood.” 

When Veser turned around to list the last rule, he managed to pin Ples between himself and the wall, and if the move was looked at in the right light, it could have seemed intentional. Ples quickly found that one, Veser’s face was terribly close, two, his hand was _purposefully_ settled between his legs, and three, he really felt like Veser was insinuating something with the scandalous look he had on his face, but Ples just couldn’t figure out what because the distance was distracting. 

And just as suddenly as Veser had stopped, he was crawling again, leaving Ples against the wall, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Because in that moment, something had most certainly happened between them. Now, Ples’s sexuality was no secret to Veser, of course, so option one was that Veser had decided it was a good idea to fuck with Ples so early in the morning. Ples thought that option one was a very good option, but there was a strange look in Veser’s eyes that crossed option one out. 

But if Veser _wasn’t_ fucking with Ples’s head….

“Ples, you coming or what?” Veser stuck his head around the corner and Ples realized that the boy had moved onward, leaving Ples behind. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, pressing unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind. Whatever had happened could wait until later. 

~*~

Ples had assumed, going into this war, that it would be a boring battle. Neither side would encounter the other, someone would get bored, and the game would get called off. He expected a lot of hiding and moving and not much else. It took only a few minutes to prove him wrong, as a dart went whizzing past his head and stuck to the wall. 

“What’re you waiting for?” Veser questioned, hidden behind a sofa cushion. They were at the exit of their fort, and Ples had managed to duck from the doorway just in time. “Fire back!”

So Ples stuck his blaster out the opening, and with eyes closed, pulled the plastic trigger. He was fairly sure he hadn’t hit a thing – he wasn’t aiming for anything, anyway – but the surprised shout from outside made him think differently. So, he stuck his head out the door to see if he managed to actually do anything. 

The yank on his collar nearly choked him, but it did save him from the volley of nerf-darts that covered the entire door. His head ended up in Veser’s lap, and Veser was leaning over him, looking out the door, and Ples flushed with the compromising situation. The worst part was that Ples, for one, couldn’t move if he tried, but at the same time, he really didn’t care to move at all. 

“You like the view, there?” Veser asked, teeth gnashing as his mouth formed into a predatory sort of grin. Ples quickly made a move to sit up, found he couldn’t, fell back, and only then tried to form words to save himself from embarrassment. Before he could, Veser leaned back, helping Ples into a sitting position. 

What happened next was a blur. Veser was quite suddenly pulled from the tunnel fort, and a paper crane replaced him. There was a yelp, then hysterical laughing, along with the occasional shout or scream of profanity. And Veser was gone. Ples was left sitting alone in the tunnel, playing a game he was still very unfamiliar with, alone. 

~*~

So that was how he ended up crawling toward the kitchen with his blaster in one hand and a foam knife he had located in his teeth. The crane was a ransom notice – he had to trade for Veser. Trade what, Ples didn’t know, but he did know he was going to do all he could to save Veser. 

Why, Ples asked himself, stopping at a doorway and trying to figure out which way the kitchen was, why am I so bent on saving Veser? He drug me into this against my will and possibly tried to mess with my head for the sake of messing with my head. I should leave him to Hanna. 

But, what if he wasn’t just messing with my head? Ples’s mind supplied, as he turned a right and found he was at the door to the kitchen. What if… No, Ples, you can’t hope for that. He didn’t mean to get that close. He’s barely twenty, there is no reason he could ever think of you as anything more than a father figure. 

But what if he does? What then?

With the raging inner battle fuming away inside of him, he stepped into the kitchen, leaving his weapons at the door. Hanna was in there, with Veser tied to a chair – they really go all out with this, don’t they – and his odd zombie friend was watching from their tunnel entrance. It looked like a scene from some action movie. Except the fact that Veser was cackling wildly. 

“Ples, jesus, lighten up! You look like they’ve got a knife to my throat or something!” Veser nearly toppled the chair with his laughing. Ples froze, face falling from the odd look he had managed to put on when he walked in. The inner battle was leaking to be an outer battle, and Ples quickly set himself in order, pushing the conflicting thoughts to the back of his mind once again. Later. I’ll think on it later.

“So, what’re you gonna trade?” Hanna had both hands on his hips and was staring Ples down with an iron look. Ples quietly pulled two things from their tunnel entrance – luckily, Veser had stocked them with foodstuffs that could bride Hanna well enough – and produced several sugary items. A Little Debbie, a couple Twinkies and a Moon Pie. It was clear from the glee on Hanna’s face that the trade was more than fair. 

~*~

“Ples,” Veser complained, as they wandered back through the tunnels of the fort, “Why did you have to give him the Moon Pie? That was the only one.” 

“Veser.” Ples suddenly stopped. Veser paused a few feet ahead, looking back curiously. 

“What?” Veser turned all the way around to inspect Ples, who was looking rather tired and confused all at once. 

“I-I must ask you… have you been fooling with me?” Ples was looking down when he asked the question, so when he looked up, he noticed that Veser’s face was very confused, and his hope fell at least three feet. “Have… you been… f-flirting with me in order to confuse me?” 

The silence spurred Ples on to explain himself, and so he kept speaking. “When you-you put your hand… well, that m-might not have been intentional, b-but it seemed like it was… and you turned around… and then when I was-I was in your lap… “ At this point, Ples had sat back down in the middle of the tunnel, and didn’t notice Veser crawling close and closer until the boy was practically in his lap. 

“And…” Ples paused, looking up and finding that his nose was brushing Veser’s. His mouth moved, soundlessly, trying to form more than the single incoherent thought that was running through his brain. 

“Ples, stop talking.” Veser murmured, his breathe tickling Ples’s lips. When their lips finally met, the kiss was chaste, too sweet for Veser’s liking and far too fast for Ples’s liking. 

“Veser…?” 

“C’mon, let’s get out of the tunnels before Hanna decides to come find us.” Veser’s words were soft and he was already dragging Ples down the tunnel, but Ples barely noticed, nor cared, for his mind was still tingling with the lips on his and the faintest brush of sharp teeth. 

Where they arrived was not what Ples expected. It was a bunker, of sorts, with layer upon layer of blankets on the floor, pillows all against the walls, and a door that closed completely, keeping everything out. Veser closed the door with his foot, practically locking them in the padded room, with cushions for walls and a soft floor. Said floor was not as soft as Ples expected when he found he was on his back against it, Veser’s legs straddling his lap. 

They were kissing, roughly, sharp teeth digging into soft lips, lines of blood rolling down both their chins, but not enough to drip or stain. It didn’t matter what had happened before. The confusion, anxiety, all of it, was no longer important. Ples wanted Veser. Veser wanted Ples. This was the only truth either of them needed to keep moving with this. It didn’t even matter that Veser had professed himself a lady’s man. All Ples knew was that they were kissing, and he found his arms around Veser’s neck as they moved together, noses clashing, kisses getting sloppier and sloppier as Veser’s hands roamed down, without foreplay, to Ples’s pants. 

“Veser!” Ples broke the kiss to pant as hot hands fondled him through his pants. “V-Veser, we can’t, I mean, you aren’t, we aren’t p-prepared.” 

“Ples,” Veser murmured, reaching for his back pocket, other hand still resting lightly between his legs, now on Ples’s stomach, “You need to learn something about teenagers.” 

The condom was suddenly in Ples’s face between two of Veser’s fingers, and Ples turned a fiery red at the fact that one, there was a condom in his face and two, he was about to use said condom. “There is no such thing as unprepared.”

~*~

“Where were you guys?!” Hanna asked, twenty some minutes later, as Ples and Veser strode into the kitchen. Well, Veser sort of swaggered and Ples remained close to the door, letting his ticking stain the silence outside the kitchen. “We’ve been calling for ten minutes.” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Veser chuckled, grinning. “Got distracted.” 

“Yeah, us too, I don’t think we’re really into this anymore, so let’s call off the… wait.” Hanna had noticed the red smears on Veser’s face and Ples’s lips, and Ples took a step back to exit the room and return to his own, because he didn’t want to explain to Hanna why he and Veser hadn’t heard any calling. He didn’t want to explain that one can’t really hear much with his ticking and Veser’s shouts in their throws of passion. He didn’t want to explain that when one is in the middle of wild sex, it wouldn’t be wise to drop it all when called. Neither did Veser, but the younger male was farther from the door and couldn’t make a quick escape. Hanna was staring at their lips, frowning. And when he spoke, both recently sexed men relaxed. 

“I thought we said no blood!”


End file.
